


Horror Stories in 2nd PoV

by badatmakingusernames, gernumblie (badatmakingusernames)



Category: Original Work
Genre: (I hope), Bathrooms, Car Trouble, Gen, Horror, Mirrors, Monsters, Not Beta Read, POV Second Person, Scary, Short Stories, Spooky, Uncanny Valley, Undead, alarm clock, alarm clocks are dicks, creepy child, creepy children, ghost - Freeform, inspired by a dream, kinda beta read?, scary bridge is scary, sleeping, somebody call the winchesters!, vomit mentions, why is it always creepy children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badatmakingusernames/pseuds/badatmakingusernames, https://archiveofourown.org/users/badatmakingusernames/pseuds/gernumblie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of horror stories I've written in my spare time. Let me know how I did!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mirrored

The alarm beeps deafeningly beside your right ear. You jolt up and slam the button three or four times to be sure it will be quiet, even though it stops on the second press.

You then sit up quietly, keeping your eyes shut so you don't have to greet the bright dawn outside your window. Arms stretch out and a loud yawn echoes through the small apartment.

Mornings. How could anyone be so tired? Flashes of memory dance across your blackened vision. A Document and scribbles you'd all but memorized by now, but never paid attention to. Pandering. Bluffing. Meaningless Rambling. Defeated staggering off to bed at an unholy hour in the early morning. Right.

You stumbled into the bathroom blindly- you knew this apartment a little too well now. You turned on the water in the sink and washed your face, beginning to wash away the sleep from a pair of bleary eyes. As you opened them, you finally looked up into the large mirror.

Great. baggy eyes. Exactly what someone needs for an important interview. This couldn't get any-

Wait.

What?

No.

How?

Did that _thing_ just blink? Why is _it_ smiling...? You weren't smiling earlier, and definitely aren't now.

Its hand reached out and closed the door in the mirror, just as the real door closed with a click. It's locked; but either way, you instinctively rush to the door, trying to get it open any way you can. It wasn't working. You're too focused on that thing in the mirror to notice the sound of heavy, panicked breathing now.

Now that _it_ had your full attention, it began to smile wider now. And wider. As if you needed anymore proof, the smile extended from the very bottom of the nose and to the edge of its chin. Impossibly large, pointed teeth protruded out in every direction possible. The imagery of a piranha came to mind. You were dreaming, you had to be. But the cold water on your face. You couldn't feel that when you dreamed. You could hear your heart race too, and that never happened in dreams. You could even tell you were trembling. This had to be a dream!

But it wasn't.

Then the creature with the thousand teeth reached out towards you, its hand slipping out... beyond the glass of the mirror. You stumbled back, thighs touching something cold, before landing into the bathtub behind you. The creature fully entered through and sits catlike on the counter. Its' hand then reaches out to it's left.

It flicked off the light.

 

 


	2. Famous

You remember yesterday night, right? What happened? I can't see how you could forget, no one else has. It's all over the news. It's famous, even right now. I think you're the only one to have been found.

You remember the old road right? Of course, it's the one just outside of town!You passed over that old wooden bridge- the one they're replacing next summer- you know. Then the car stopped. You sighed and tried to start it. And tried again. And again. Nothing. Nothing worked. You'd have to get out of the car and check it out- but that darkness outside- wasn't it odd? Didn't it make your skin crawl? Didn't it make your heart beat just a little faster? Why?

Luckily there was a street light just up ahead. Sure it was the one that always blinked on and off, but blinking on and off is better than nothing. Right? So you got out of the car and pushed it until you reached the eternal cycle of glowing and darkening.

But something happened outside, didn't it? Because, you had goosebumps when they found you, and you probably even still have them now. But... How? Today is July 17th, yesterday broke the local heat record from a hundred and twenty-something years ago.  
Anyways, you opened the hood of that car, we know that because- well for one thing it was still open, and for another, your hand prints are still on the dirty hood of the car. But either way, at some point you stopped looking at the engine and walked closer to the bridge. Did you see someone? Or were you looking for a rock that could have gotten into your car's engine?

A lot of people think you saw _Her_ \- you know the lady that children always told stories about. The one who lives under that little bridge? Did she really have a tangled mess of brown hair? Was she really slouched over like a zombie? Did she look up at you, revealing her paled, marred features?

Your shoe got stuck in the mud as you ran back to the car. Perhaps if you hadn't, you might not have tripped. You broke a few toes with that, and yet you kept on running.

That hurt Her feelings- _my_ \- feelings. You shouldn't have run from me. My slow stride picked up to you after you started limping. The adrenaline hadn't kicked up just yet.

Pity.

I grab you by your neck and hoisted you up into the air. You could only squeak in surprise, getting rid of all your air before I even started squeezing.

And then your neck broke. You at least remember that, right? It was a particularly loud snap as well, one of my personal best.

Oh, wait. Silly me! How could I?

I just gave you spoilers.

See you tomorrow night. I can't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who left me kudos and comments, I really appreciated it! So much in fact, I brought this one out from the dusty box!


	3. Mama Pearl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been naughty once again. She'll be very mad at you.

   “You've been naughty!” Annie, your older sister, howls in your face. “I'm getting Nancy, and we're going to summon Mama Pearl, and she's gonna gobble you up!” You start crying, and tugging your hand away from her pulling.

   Nancy, the oldest of the three of you, came around the hallway with her hands on her hips. She looked like a momma should- but Momma was very busy lately. Nancy was nine now, so _she_ was the one in charge of you and Annie.

   “What did you do Charlie? You know Mama Pearl only gave you one chance left!” She addressed you before looking up to Annie. You couldn't answer through your sobs. Annie frowned.

   “Charlie pulled on my hair!” Of course, but you only pulled her hair because she hit you first! You tried to explain, but Nancy had decided a long time ago that Annie was always right, and grabbed at your other arm that swung in protest.

   Your sisters dragged you to the hall closet while you howled. You didn't even bother trying to explain, you just hoped that creaming sorry would work, or maybe Momma and Dadda would come home soon! Mama Pearl would be so angry with you.

   They shoved you in and held the door shut, you tried throwing yourself against the door, but it didn't work. They were older and stronger, and you had to listen because they were ' _closer to being grownups'_.

“ _A door closes. Knock. Knock. Knock._

_Her face you see 'til ticking of the Clock._

_Here she comes, Mama Pearl_

_To watch your death unfurl._ ”

   They chanted in unison. They had it memorized by now- because the blame always came back to you. In front of Momma, in front of Dadda, in front of Mama Pearl. Maybe you were bad after all?

   You could tell that they had stepped back now, you had to face Mama Pearl now.

   A part of you didn't want to open the door, to see her again. The three of you had promised her you'd be good children and take care of her house for her- but now you had one more incident left. The thought of confronting her made you so scared! But... You couldn't stay in here forever. Not with the darkness oozing and cloying all around you. If she couldn't get you, the monsters in here definitely would!

   You open the door as fast as you can to escape the darkness, avoiding the gaze of your sisters- or what stood in their places.

   “ _You've been naughty._ ” A raspy woman's voice said, making you jump. There your sisters stood- but instead of their faces they wore the same angular, gaunt face. This face was hidden by long, black hair- not the blonde hair your family shares. Though she sounded disappointed, she still had the scary, wide smile.

   “I- I-” You start, before the sobs start up again.

   “ _I gave you one last chance, little Charlie. I thought you three were supposed to be good little children. I only want good children in my house._ ”

   “I am good!” You manage to get out, stamping your foot bravely.

   “ _Good children don't break promises- and you promised to not be naughty. Yet. Here. You. Are._ ” You start to run away from them before she can finish. You have to get out, before she gets you.

   You nearly didn't stop in time as the front door opened, but you still managed to crash into Momma's legs. She dropped her groceries and picked you up. You looked up at her, but it wasn't her face you saw.

   “ _You have until the end of the hour, Little Charlie. The end of the hour._ ” Muffled, you hear Momma's voice asking what was wrong. By the time you actually can explain what just happened, Mama Pearl's gone. When you're done, Momma rolled her eyes and gave you an odd smile.

   She still didn't believe you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha... I'd call this nightmare fuel, but I actually dreamed this... I'm going to call a psychologist now.


	4. Bed Time Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to get better about posting regularly.  
> Also, sorry.

It is 3 am. You groan as you gaze at the glaring red numbers on your nightstand, only to turn over in your warm, comfortable bed. _Oh, please, don't let this be one of those nights_ , you think to yourself without any real words. Sleep arrives again soon enough.

~ ~ ~

 

It is 4 am. You wake up in what feels like extra thick sweat. You pull yourself from your bed, it feels hard to do, but thirst clawing at the back of your throat is an excellent motivator. You do your best to keep your eyes shut, even though the world is still dark. Opening them would mean fully waking up, and admitting defeat. Neither of those options are appealing.

Eventually, after chugging two glasses of water and having a bathroom adventure, you heading back to your bed and crawl back in, wrapping the sheets all around you. The sweat now feels more like drool. Odd… But you’re not quite conscious enough to care.

~ ~ ~

 

It’s 5 am. You woke up again with a nightmare. You could have sworn you had felt the teeth at your neck too. Your head was spinning, especially considering the fact you were now sitting upright while your inner ear swirled around in confusion. You caught your breath, and slowly laid back down.

You could have sworn the blunted teeth were still there, but readjusting the pillow fixed that soon enough.

~ ~ ~

 

It’s 6 am. Your alarm clock is screaming at you, begging and pleading for you to get up. You can’t even lift up your arm to turn off the button, so you snuggle in deeper into the bed. Any consequences you might face seem insignificant at the idea of sleep.

~ ~ ~

 

It’s 7 am. You can’t get out of bed.

It’s not like your body feels like lead and you cannot muster the will to rise up and get ready for the day- though it does feel like lead, now that you think about it. You physically cannot sit up. The sheets, they feel like they’re restraining you. Must be some kind of sleep paralysis?

~ ~ ~

 

It’s 9 am. There’s more drool than there was before- but it isn’t from you. Your mouth has been terribly dry since the alarm clock rang. The sheets are forceful, and ghosts of your dream still persist in the form of a roll of dull teeth at the back of your neck. Though you thrash your arms and legs, you can’t free yourself from the sheets.

This isn’t sleep paralysis.

~ ~ ~

 

It’s 2 pm. You didn’t know when it started, but mattress below you keeps shifting around- tasting you. You’re covered in drool now, the hair just above the nape of your neck is drenched. And now there are teeth on the sheets too. These ones are sharper.

The alarm never stopped ringing, it blares a message of farewell, hidden behind a chorus of beeping that you tuned out hours ago to keep your sanity. Now, you find yourself hearing it once again, wanting to cover your ears with a pillow, but unable- but now, in the orderly monotony of droning beeps, you hear a knocking at your front door. All you have to do is scream for help. It’s so close.

But you can’t scream. Your mouth is still dry, though your eyes were now watering. You persist anyways, opening your mouth and hoarsely call out, but it’s barely a faint whisper and any impact it has is cut by the alarm clock. Though you persevere, trying more and more- the knocking is gone soon enough. Leaving you with only one realization.

 

You’re stuck here.


	5. Marisol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone you remember from highschool asks you to watch their little sister. Funny, you'd always thought they were the youngest...

It was a simple babysitting job. Easy money. That's what you told yourself, but you know it isn't true. Some classmate calling you to ask to watch her sibling after so long without any contact- and it's not like you really knew her or her family at all, you hadn't known she had a little sister. Money is money though, and like you kept telling yourself, it should be easy money. 

You'd never been to the Perry’s house before, but you'd heard stories of the parties you never attended. However, standing on the front lawn before a quick evening working feeling bitter was probably not the best course of action so you step forward to the two story house. It’s eggshell white paint blending in with the gloomy clouds above that refused to let the last rays of sunlight through. The shutters were a midnight blue, but in the growing darkness, were blacker than the deepest pitch.

Corinna Perry opens the door, her hair a mess and circles under her eyes. You'd never seen her like that before. In high school, she had always been well groomed, even in the middle of PE. She lets you inside quickly, where all the family you had known previously stood in foyer. Ready to leave. You check your watch, wondering if you were late, but you were exactly 34 minutes early- out of habit. They all hurry out, not bothering to greet you or give you any kind of tour or even give you a basic rundown of house rules- Corinna does her best, but was the last out the door by about twelve seconds. 

The foyer is hastily tidied, but why were they putting up a front? From what it sounded like, this Marisol was the youngest of four, and by the way Corinna talked about her she couldn't be older than three. This would be a handful of a toddler.

“Hello?” You call. It suddenly became apparent that Marisol might be hiding. You are a stranger this child had never met. You might be playing hide and seek all night involuntarily. “Marisol? I’m a friend of your sister’s.” Friend isn’t exactly quite the right word really, but far better than ‘former acquaintance from high school days that neither of us really remember’. “It’s just about dinner time, how about chicken nuggets?” Where would she be hiding? It doesn’t take long.

You step into the living room and the all-encompassing mess, and as you scan the room you nearly miss her frame pressed up against the window. You can see her mournful reflection in the window as she watch the street just outside.

“They aren’t coming back.” Her voice was soft, and melodious. Ominous, and still wobbly. There’s something about her, be it her unusual vocabulary and perfect pronunciation, or the fact her limbs are just a bit too long, and a bit too thin. You fight the urge to recoil from her as you step forward and kneel by her.

“Sweetheart, that isn’t true at all. Your parents will be back soon enough.” You were in the middle of that last sentence when you realized that Corinna, nor her lovely parents told you when they would be back at all. She was technically right.

Now that you were closer, you could see her in better detail, making the  _ need  _ to flee even worse. Her eyes were glassy, and yet they bore into your very being, making the hair on your arms and neck stand to attention. Her skin was covered in stripes and strange patterns that seemed so familiar, and yet so unknown. Her ruby red cheeks weren’t natural either, and it couldn’t be her having gotten into a relative’s makeup either. Her brown hair was darker than Corrina’s, and cropped just a little past her ears. Was she really Corinna’s little sister? She didn’t take after the rest of the Perrys either. 

“It’s getting dark.” She said after a long pause. You hadn’t realized it until it had broken like a spell. Her fear made her a little more huma… How could you say that? She is a  _ little girl _ . Her appearance shouldn’t matter, it’s your job to watch her. Fearing the dark is normal for her age.

“C’mon. Let’s go get some dinner, then we can play, does that sound good?” You reassure her. She purses her lips for a moment, bringing back that sickening feeling in your gut that claws up your throat with bile. “How about mac ‘n cheese?” You ask, trying to hide your disgust.

It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No deaths here, but this is going to be a two parter. I also want to make this project my nanowrimo, so expect plenty more in the next month or so. I had wanted this to be published on the 13th, but that's what I get for not writing all day. Happy Spoopin'!


	6. Monster Mash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Party! Nothing can go wrong when alcohol is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! First of all, I would like to give a little warning. About halfway through writing this story, it occurred to me that this story might have potentially triggering aspects. If drinking at parties triggers you, I would advise just skipping this chapter altogether.  
> Secondly, I want to start posting regularly. So, my plan is to post a new story every Friday.  
> Thanks for listening/reading! Hope you enjoy.

Halloween parties are a cut above the rest. One of your best and favorite excuses to get wasted- oddly enough better than St. Patrick’s or Cinco de Mayo. Perhaps because you have a love for good costumes and having freedom to drink whatever you want.

This year is no exception. A college student in your neighborhood is throwing the kind of party you thought only could exist in TV or movie. The guests are buzzing about like bees in a hive- when they could move around at all. In spaces with barely enough room for one, three are crammed instead. The music is pounding in your ears, and chest, though the music is drowned out as people shouting whispers to each other.

You sneak into the foyer with the masses, and no host arrives to turn you away. Everyone is dressed in costumes, and some are actually terrifying. You just hope ‘office worker’ will suffice.

The throng is pulling  you along into the kitchen where  there are several punch bowls, and behind are a group of clowns’ backs as they attempt ‘alchemy’- or to be more accurate, make some jungle juice. You wouldn’t want to be rude to your gracious hosts who haven’t thrown you out quite yet, you think as you grab a cup of ‘punch’.

Cup One  . Everyone around you is suddenly dancing without any kind of skill, spilling the jungle juice from their plastic cups. You try to keep yourself from this fate, but eventually you feel the swaying and accept this- taking another sip from your cup to gain some courage and loose what inhibitions you have left. ‘There’s something odd about that juice’, a voice from a lost and forlorn part of your mind cries- but the sheep-plushie from the little Bo Peep costume is kicking its legs to free itself and wiggling its tail when it can’t is distracting you and occupying all your thinking capacity.

Cup Two . Someone puked on the ‘dancefloor’. Those who are too drunk to care- everyone- slips and fall onto an impromptu and growing dogpile. A wicked witch is trying to talk to you as you nod along, unable to hear a word she’s saying, and laughing when she waits for your reply. Someone crawls onto the dining room table to dance, and suddenly finds herself back on the floor with a broken table. The werewolf’s mask was drooling. Everything is hilarious.

Cup Three . Swaying slightly is the only way you could stand at all. Those around you who are keeping their cups are also swaying- and the brave who attempt to dance end up on the floor getting trampled, or puked upon. You do your best to weave and bob through the crowd to reach a wall. Leaning on this ought to be safe enough.

There is a Frankenstein next to you, groaning with a smile in your general direction. There’s also a vampire with his fangs and mouth dripping with punch. It looked much darker and thicker than what you had been drinking- so an investigation is in order.

Cup Four . It’s no different than your previous cups, though now you were over-affectionate with everyone around. Your embrace is felt by many. Some witches may even look back on tonight and remember your shared kissing. Eventually, you reign in some control, but it doesn’t last long. You find your arm around a particular realistic-looking zombie who keeps stroking your face. How did he get that fake eye to dangle like that? You vaguely remember throwing up at his smell.

Cup Five . The light above are flickering, but none of the other party goers seem to notice or care in any capacity. The dragon costumes googly eyes are fixated on you. In fact, it looks like every pair of fake eyes are on you. Drunken paranoia is new, you’ve never even heard of it before. Wasn’t that supposed to be a symptom of being high?

As you analyze this new feeling, you see skeletons in the crowded dancefloor. Through your fearful lense, you ‘know’ their sockets are constantly focused on you. So much so, that when they crash into other people they shatter into a pile of over one hundred bones, only to reassemble themselves. If it weren’t for the fact that they were staring at you and that nobody else is watching them it would be rather funny.

That werewolf from earlier has become more hairy since the last time you saw him, as he looks from the skeletons to you.

“You… Boogy-gan?” You slur as you bump into a tall costumed-person. She turns around, and her horns look almost real. That fake tail is twitching too, reminding you of a cat.

“No, he’s getting trashed out on the dancefloor.” She replies. It takes you a moment for you to realize that she isn’t even shouting. The music is completely gone. “I’m just an ordinary succubus.”

“Suck-bus?” You mutter as you slip away from her and into the crowd. The people around you were moving slower than they were earlier. Wasn’t that supposed to be the other way around?

“Hey wait! Come back! Let me get you some more juice!” Her voice rings out piercing as you get farther and farther away. It’s like she’s still next to you. It's time to call it a night as you meander through the crowd. No one notices you, it's like you were invisible. If you were a little less drunk you might have a lot more fun. The people around you are dancing in slow motion, and there still isn't any music. Even you weren't drunk enough to do that.

As you ponder this, like the drunken Socrates you are, a man with goat horns and sharp and protruding, vicious fangs finally blocks your path, and shoves yet another cup of jungle juice into your hand.

“You look like you need more juice my friend.” He says with a smile. Were you you sober, enough, you might have refused, but instead you reply-

“Goose.” Before attempting to take a drink and accidentally spill it all over your clo-costume. He frowns.

“Wow, take it easier there. I'll get you a new one.” You don't have a chance to deny him as he slips past you on his way to the kitchen. You mentally shrug it off, as you continue on towards your goal. The way is clear enough as you weave and bob through the crowds. It’s easy enough, but it feels an eternity away. It's like those nightmares where you run and run and you don't move but you don't gain an inch. You could've sworn the house wasn't nearly this big. You are either drunk or dreaming, and you don't really want to be either. The fun was gone. If you could've clicked your ruby shoes,  you would.

Finally, that front door came into view. It was beautiful, and your politeness melted away as you blatantly shove people out of the way. Sober you would feel guilty, but drunken you pushes that off till morning. The door is opening, and you're a yard or two away. When did it get so dark? Just how long had you been at this party?

Right before you get to the outside world to stumble home, someone with bat-like wings walks over and shuts the door, before turning to face you again with a fitting devilish grin. The succubus strides over, and puts a cup to your lips and tilts it so the liquid is right there. You wouldn't drink. Even though you were drunk, she couldn't even trick you. In fact, you were so confident in this, that you opened your mouth to tell her. You don't realize your mistake until it's too late.

Cup six.

“There. Much better, huh?” She starts giggling. Though you are swaying, your mind is sobering up. Warning bells are sounding off between your ears, deafening them to the outside world. You try to shove your way past her, but before you can, something from behind falls on you. You're pinned underneath one of the dancing skeletons from before. Its bones are reassembling around you. Its ribs are trapping your arms at your sides. It uses all of its bones to trap you, leaving the skull on the floor. It cackles with the succubus. She hoists you up, and starts pulling you away from the door, and back towards the kitchen. You try to fight back, but whenever you take a step that isn’t going with the succubus, the skeleton bones lock all around you and tighten where they can. You puke on the skull for revenge, but it still laughs.

The clowns from before are waiting for you when you get to the kitchen. Their teeth are like needles, and their eyes are yellow and beady. When they approach and inspect you, their breath smells like death. One was rubbing his palms together, the claws of each hand clicking as they made contact with the the other. The other keeps smelling you and muttering about the different cuts as he traces certain muscles in your body.

Their voices are high-pitched and sing-song as they taunt you. Their blood-red hair looking like mops after a murder scene. Or perhaps embarrassed jellyfish?

“It’ll need more juice.” The one inspecting you says. She pinches your cheek, and you try to bite her. She snacks you, threatening to pull out those teeth under her breath. The second one clicks his tongue.

“It’s subdued enough. We might as well just cook it now.” He replies in a bored voice. “Just get the skeleton off it first. We can restrain it with chains or something.”

“Cook it?” A third cries in horror. “But it’s so better to eat ‘em raw! Humans are delicious and squishy that way. You cook a human, and all you have left is a pile of burnt mush. What’s the point of that?!”

“Georgie, we can’t leave him raw.” The first one says in a quiet, scolding voice. “We aren’t just feeding ourselves, it’s also for our guests. What kind of hosts would we be to deny what our guests want?”

“But how _do_ we know what our guests want?” The third, Georgie, puts his hands on his hips.

“No idea. Why not ask?” The first says, gesturing to the living room. The other monsters are all gathering now, waiting expectantly. You don’t know what they are waiting for, but you have a few guesses. And you don’t really want an of those answers to be true. She turns to the crowd at large. “How about a taste test? We’ll cook that top half, and the bottom half can be left alone, whatever you like more, we can serve more of. The entrees are coming in faster now! Might as well start digging in.” There is the answer you were dreading, and you look around the kitchen, and you see more people. Most are too drunk to really know what’s going on. A few others are passed out. You’re the only one restrained, and you don’t feel drunk anymore. Your heart is pounding fast, ready to fight or flee at a moment’s notice, but the skeleton is still trapping you. You can’t escape, not light this. Nor could you run, not while it controlled your moments like it has been. You had to find a way to get out of this thing, then you could escape. Your eyes flicker to the sliding glass door. It’s pitch black. There are no lights outside, and you know better than to make some kind of excuse for that. Before you could start figuring out a plan, a scream rang out.

“ESCAPING! ESCAPING! A MORSEL IS ESCAPING!!” It’s that skull you left at the front door, the one you puked on.

The gathered monsters march en masse in the direction of the skull’s shouting, the direction of freedom. The only ones left are the clowns, who are busy prepping the giant oven. You could have sworn that the oven doubled in size since you arrived. It could fit an entire person in there, and there’s a fire inside, instead of wires or racks or anything that _should_ be inside.

The monster horde returns after a moment, now with them is a college girl, kicking and screaming. She stops fighting when they set her down in front of the clowns. She puffs up her chest and lifts her chin slightly.

“Go ahead. Kill me then.” The clown-chefs look at her, horror and fury in their yellow eyes.

“Kill you? Why would we kill you?” The girl relaxed. You could see her drop her guard. “Cooked, or raw. Human tastes better when alive and _wriggly_.” The last part tears any bravery away from the girl. She backs up, and the crowd of monsters push her forward. Before she can try to find another way out she finds herself in the arms of the second clown. He hurries over to the oven, and heaves her inside, though careful to grab onto her kicking legs to make sure their taste-test won’t be ruined by her getting roasted. You can hear her screams and shrieks of pain- though soon enough they are drowned out by laughter of the hungry, expectant monsters. She was barely inside before she was pulled back out. She had a moment to catch her breath, and you could see the terrible burns- before she was thrown out into the crowd.

She shrieks and wails, mourns and begs, but eventually there isn’t a trace of her left. You hope they aren’t hungry anymore. It’s wishful thinking though, and you know it. The crowd is cheering, some demanding something in unintelligible roars. Then, a solemn spokes monster steps forward, and eyes you with a smile.

“Quite delicious, you three certainly outdid yourselves.” Your heart is slamming itself against your chest, trying to break free of its prison and escape. “But Georgie is right, there’s something about raw human that is impossible to ignore. Can we keep eating? Or shall we wait for more dinners to arrive?”

“What’s the point in waiting now? There’s so much food here already.” Georgie says. The bones fall apart automatically, as he grabs you by the scruff of your shirt and throws you into the crowd as well.


End file.
